Dream Girl
by Wishingonmy
Summary: Gaara's been spending a lot of time playing in the sand, trying to portray the woman of his dreams with the beauty of art. But even that doesn't compare. One-shot, AU, GaaHina. Kankuro's POV


A/N: Hello children,

I haven't submitted a fic in about a year now.

And as a result, I'm going through Fic-Creation Withdrawal. It's a very serious disease. Almost as bad as Writer's block.

So…. here you are! Something I whipped up just to put it out there. Tell me what you think.

Kankuro POV, AU, GaaHina

Enjoy :)

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Dream Girl

There he is. My knuckleheaded little brother, standing by that box of wet sand, molding.

It seems like he's always there molding. Molding, molding, molding. Go ahead and ask him what he does with his so called life, and he'll respond that he spends his time with his "element." Also known as sand. For molding.

It can get pretty annoying, his little fetish. It started out of nowhere and yet he treats his sculptures as if he'd devoted his childhood years to the art. I mean, he's so concentrated, standing there by that box set on that white pedestal, in the white room where the sun is always shining through the windows. It's really not what one would expect from a guy like Gaara. And yet he's there, his facial expression stern with concentration, eyes bright with imagination. You can almost see a tsunami of ideas gushing powerfully around within his sea-foam green eyes.

… Hm. That was poetic.

Today was no different from any other day. After working part time as the oh-so cheerful cashier at our family restaurant down the street, little Gaa-chan usually comes home to abandon his uniform on some random corner of his bedroom floor and mold butterflies or whatever. I honestly started to doubt his sexuality when I would walk by his "molding room" and take a peek at what he was creating.

Two things set me straight.

One, when he was finished molding a little kitten or fluffy bunny, he would take it to our restaurant's furnace from the back door, throw it in, and watch it burn.

And two… well, two would be the current subject of his moldings.

From a crack in the door I sat crouched, my eyes trailing the serene curves of a figure I had recently been seeing a lot of. By the grace of the poise and the petiteness of the figure, I knew it was _that_ girl again.

This chick- he's been molding her for a while now, and she is the epitome of what one would call, a "freaking goddess". Her body is always in some sort of stance: too graceful to be fighting, but too sturdy and stable to be dancing. He leaned in beside his current statuette and scanned it with the utmost care, as if worried a waft might blow in and the whole thing would shatter.

Actually, I'm surprised these things didn't. They were made of _SAND_ after all.

My bro's a magician, I swear.

So now he's looking at this thing like he's poured every ounce of his soul into it, with that look of serene concentration of his creasing his forehead ever so slightly.

I smirked in amusement. It was funny how worked up he could get about a sculpture; I mean, he treats them better than I've ever seen a man treat a woman. How completely into an inanimate object can you get?

It was then I realized that it wasn't the _sculpture_ he was so unhealthily devoted to. It was the object of the creation itself.

Gaara had a girlfriend.

Well, no, I doubted that statement entirely, but he had to have some pretty intense crush on whatever chick he was molding.

Being the awesome brother I am, I would've taunted him about it, day and night, the second I had the chance… If I could identify who in the world he was making. Or if she was even real.

Every time he would get to molding the girl's face so I could see who she was, he would hesitate, try something out, hate the entire thing, then throw it away; never burn it. He did that often. How did I know? Whenever it was my turn to take out our household's thirty tons of trash, there those neglected little sculptures would be, standing in their own little world by the dumpster out back. All faceless. It was creepy.

I watch as he tries his luck on this one's face. As usual, it's in a completely different pose from the rest, all graceful and sturdy, but different- like he wouldn't dare recreate a stance. From my view, I can tell he's gotten to the eyes- where he always seems to "mess up". He always mumbles irritably that they're too big or too small or too square or too close together. I personally feel that this girl, with that silky-looking, long, straight hair, perfect bangs, and insanely tight body was pretty fine to me, but he was never satisfied. Either with the girl, or his portrayal of her. Probably the portrayal.

I remember once we were having one of those rare, completely random talks chill brothers have. We were, or I was, talking about our dream girl; how she'd look, what she'd be like. He didn't respond to anything I said, he was just in a deep sort of trance.

And that's when Miss Goddess became the subject of his life.

After watching him sigh, drop his molding tool thingy, push the sculpture aside and practically start anew, I decided to do what I went there for to begin with and tell him we had to take Temari's shift at the restaurant tonight.

I went in and informed him, to which he responded by completely ignoring my existence. Raising a brow, I figured he had heard and headed off towards the shop myself. Sure enough, he arrived moments after I did and took his post at the register. I stood and kept surveillance over the place, watching the people walk up to the buffet and pick their preferences.

The awesome, jingly, ringing sound of the door being opened added to the commotion of the evening shift, announcing the presence of a very stern looking guy. He was followed closely by guy around my age, and totally passively-observant looking.

I freaked out internally at the sight of their eyes. They were like freaking PEARLS.

No pupils. Nothing. Just huge, shiny, pearls.

I looked to my side at Gaara by the cash register to find I wasn't the only one gawking at the new customers. Gaara stood, mouth actually slightly agape, in as much awe as a Gaara can have… except his focus wasn't on the two guys walking towards him. His gaze landed on the humble, timid little thing that pushed through the doors in a much less over-prideful "I'm the shit" kind of way. She paused immediately and held the door open for an old lady and her grandchildren.

Once I saw her, I gaped too.

Saying she was the epitome of the girl Gaara always tried to mold would be the epitome of an understatement. She was just like his sculptures, only… more. I wasn't sure how to explain it, and I was sure Gaara couldn't either. But when sea-foam green met lilac pearls, I smiled, knowing one thing for sure:

Gaara found his dream girl.

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A/N: There you are, a submission! Yay. ^^

I'm not sure if I'll continue it- most likely not- but reviews make the world go round, so try me. :)

Have a good life all,

~Mannie258


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